


Minamina (To Grieve for Something Lost)

by Hockey35



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Coda, Gen, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hockey35/pseuds/Hockey35
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hawaiian's had a word for everything. Danny just wished he didn't need to know the word for grieving. /A series of Codas to Season 5 exploring Danny's grieving process over the loss of his brother/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 5.04

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This serves as kind of a coda to most of season five. I was dissatisfied with the focus (or lack thereof) on Danny's pain in dealing with the loss of a sibling. I will explore different episodes where he was absent/there was a significant event/where I feel he should have experience some kind of trigger with his loss.
> 
> I will preface this with the warning that it is a bit graphic at times in reference to Matt's body. I will also say that a lot of this is coming from a personal place of loss. So, if this seems out of character or like too much, it's probably because I lost the line between myself and Danny. I did my best to consider what our emotional Jersey detective would do and how he would react, taking into consideration the different dynamics of the different roles he fills.
> 
> Please leave reviews/comments/whatever so that I can get some feedback. I will update this with more tags to different episodes, likely up to 5.18, but maybe beyond that.
> 
> Lastly, this is rated T for mentions of violence, some adultish themes, and some language. Just to be safe.
> 
> As always, I own nothing.

He thought that the weight would lift - or at the very least grow lighter - after he pulled the trigger, but all it seemed to do was fall harder against his chest. It was unbearable and triggered his claustrophobia, but he remained on his feet. Distant, hazy, but still standing. The revolver didn't want to leave his hand and for a fleeting second, as the barrel of the gun tipped back towards him, he wondered if he just needed to pull the trigger a second time to remove the weight. Another second passed and he let it clatter to the table in front of him, dropping just next to the body still draped across it.

Trembling fingers reached towards the oil drum to his right and his breath hitched in his throat, his chest threatening to seize with a mixture of anxiety and despair, as sweat pricked his fingertips. He was certain he was going to throw up just as he was certain he was shaking like an earthquake as he pulled the lid off the barrel. The smell alone should have knocked him to the ground, but he couldn't move; couldn't even fall.

The first thing his brain processed - thankfully (if you could be thankful in this situation) it had ignored the stench of rotting flesh - was the severed right hand that seemed to reach up towards Danny, begging for the rescue that never came. Eyes ignored the gruesome breaks at the knuckles, instead focusing on the large ring still on one disfigured finger. The brushed gold was now stained with red, but Danny couldn't look away from the stone - Matty's birth stone - still set in the center of the class ring.

Memories of his brother crossing that stage to receive his diploma, Danny surrounded by their over-joyed family members as they yelled much too loudly for the youngest of their clan, were what finally broke him.

The tears fell silently, but freely down his face as his heart tore itself to pieces in his chest. A heavy hand rested on his shoulder. A hand trying to ground him in reality. A hand that he knew, instinctively, belonged to Steve - and not because of some weird connection with his partner that let him discern Steve from all others with just a touch, but because the logical part of his brain was, somehow, still working and told him the only one it could be was Steve. Because everyone else was dead.

Including Matt.

"Matty."

His voice wasn't broken, but his heart break was audible.

Steve didn't dare move, not wanting to interrupt the reverie no matter how much they needed to get moving. He'd have given anything to have a private moment with his father after his death - or so he had always thought. Now, Steve was thinking he was the luckier of the two of them. He didn't have the image of his father burned into his brain - just the sound of the gunshot.

Another minute passed before Danny dragged the back of his hand across his eyes to chase away the tears. A brief moment of hesitation followed before he replaced the lid to the drum and moved to push the dolly it was sitting on, not once looking at Steve. Not saying a word.

And Steve didn't dare intervene. He gathered the duffel bags and let Danny move slowly, painfully, up the stairs with the damned oil drum. They hadn't been able to save Matt; Steve wasn't about to take away Danny's opportunity to rescue his brother's corpse from obscurity.

They made it to their Jeep without further interference or conversation. There was no protest about Steve driving as Danny climbed into the passenger seat.

The ghost of a smile crossed Danny's face as he thought back to when he and Matt were younger and would fight - literally fight - over who would get shotgun until their mom would declare their sister - whichever one had dared to brave the journey with them - would get the coveted seat.

Now, with the oil drum in the back of the Jeep, Danny felt like he had cheated. He would kill for the chance to go back to one of those moments where they were in the backseat screwing around as their mom reached back with her trusty plastic spatula she kept between the driver's seat and the center console and smacked them on the shins until they quit.

Danny had already killed, though, and it had done nothing.

The detective didn't even flinch when Steve stopped outside of an orphanage and gave them all 18.5 million dollars of Reyes' money. He just drifted back to his quiet thoughts, to memories of Super Mario Bros., Duck Hunt, and Ms. Pac-Man. To simpler times when their hardest decision was whether or not they'd respect their curfew.

When they arrived at the air strip, Danny wasn't sure he had enough energy to carry himself onto the cargo plane, let alone the oil drum.

He couldn't think about his brother being in there. It was just an oil drum.

One defeated look was all Steve needed before fishing the barrel out himself and carefully securing it in the cargo hold.

The weight was crushing now but the tears had stopped and the agony in the pit of his stomach had been replaced with numbness and emptiness. It took everything Danny had to climb into the plane and fasten his own seatbelt. His eyes were unfocused and his face blank as he failed to acknowledge the movement around him. He didn't even bristle when Steve sat too close to him, his eyes straight forward; still unfocused.

"Take-off in fifteen minutes... land at Hickam... 11:53am Zulu..."

Danny's attention to Steve's words waned. The fact that the SEAL's military jargon hadn't even gotten the slightest rise out of Danny told Steve to just let his partner sit and process.

But, for once, Steve found himself wishing that Danny would just flail his arms angrily and rant at him. Anything to let Steve know Danny would be ok. Danny didn't even know if he would be ok. All he knew was there was a hole in his heart that felt like it would become infected and surely fester.

And it was strange.

Danny's life surely hadn't been devoid of death. His partner, Grace. His proximity and work in and around the fall out of the attacks on the World Trade Center. His daily life as a cop. His life hadn't been devoid of grief, either. His divorce, Grace's kidnapping, the multitude of times Steve had been taken... He wanted to believe that he should be able to shrug this off.

But this was different. This was family and, unlike with Gracie, Danny hadn't gotten to Matty in time. Which was why he was certain the hole would become infected and fester. Because he had failed.

He had failed on so many levels. As a detective and an older brother. As a father and as a husband. It was a wonder everyone in his life hadn't ended up in an oil drum.

The tremors returned along with the claustrophobia and Danny resigned himself to just drown in it for the next thirteen hours.

Danny didn't remember falling asleep. Unfortunately, he remembered everything else; including the vivid dreams of Reyes dismembering Matt before his own eyes. He hadn't thrashed in his sleep, but his now-open eyes were clearly haunted and the tremors remained.

"I asked Max to meet us here."

Danny realized that Steve had been trying to talk to him but couldn't bring himself to care enough to give him his full attention as he watched Max carefully transfer the oil drum to the Medical Examiner's can.

The hand returned to Danny's shoulder and, this time, it demanded his attention.

"D'you hear me, Danny?" Steve's eyes were as soft as his tone; empathetic, but not piteous.

"Wha?" Danny's voice cracked from disuse, but he, again, couldn't bring himself to care.

"Max is taking... the drum back to prepare your brother to be transported back home to Jersey. Where do you want me to take you?"

Danny blinked hard as he fixed Steve with a confused stare, trying to force his brain to function.

"I... uh... nowhere. I wanna... I wanna drive myself."

He fished the keys to his Camaro, which they had left at the air field, out of his pocket and left Steve before the taller man could protest.

 - - -

His hands gripped the Camaro's steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white enough to see the blue veins in them. His heart pounded in his chest as the anxiety and despair threatened to swallow him whole. Danny just pressed the gas pedal harder; as if he could drive fast enough to get away from the dark hands of agony trying to pull him under.

There was no destination in mind; Danny moved on auto pilot as his eyes remained empty. Thinking risked the chance of darker, uncontrollable thoughts grilling his mind, so he willed himself to remain blank.

It took about fifteen minutes of staring at the shoreline before he realized where he had taken himself. Distantly, he recognized his cell phone bleating at him, but ignored it as he go out of his car. He was numb; completely numb.

Danny's mindless driving had taken him to the cliff that he had wound up on his first day in Hawaii after he'd gotten lost. It had become his spot - not because it was exceptionally breath taking or anything like that. Actually, it was one of the lesser scenic spots on the island, which meant the tourists were usually few and far between. To be fair, though, it was a prettier beach view than anything he'd seen on the shore back home, but he'd sooner eat a bullet than admit that to anyone - especially Steve.

Legs slung over the cement barrier at the edge of the cliff, Danny stared at the jagged rocks below. His eyes shifted in and out of focus as images of his brother stuffed inside that damned oil drum finally flooded his mind. Blood had pooled in the bottom and dried in clumps on the decapitated head inside. It was a small blessing that Matty's eyes had been closed; the soullessness in them would have just been another thing to haunt him. Strangely, though, it was the hand that he was so messed up over.

The hand reaching up for his big brother, only to be let down.

This time, the tears came forcefully and Danny's sobs were audible. The pain swelled in his chest and his breath felt short, but Danny just let the anguish swallow him. His body shook harder and harder and the tears fell faster and faster. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw spots. He willed the tears to stop, but they just spilled past his fingers.

Danny clawed at the buttons at the collar of his shirt, unable to pull in enough air. The claws of anxiety and grief dug into his lungs and the tears still fell and Danny was certain that everything was going to fall away.

He wanted it to fall away.

But there was that hand again. That damned hand, pulling him back from the edge, this time literally.

The hand didn't move, but its owner didn't say anything, either. Silence surrounded them until Danny was able to regain some semblance of control; the only evidence of his breakdown now the red rims surrounding his tired eyes and the desperate crumpling of the collar of his shirt.

"How am I going to explain this to Grace?" Danny's voice was hollow and devoid of the tenacity and life it usually overflowed with.

Chin sat next to Danny on the ridge, his back to the shore. "You tell her that her Uncle loved her very much and you explain that, while he made some poor choices, he was your brother and you'll all miss him." The lieutenant's voice was strong, confident, but kind as he regarded Danny with empathy.

Chin knew too well how much it hurt to lose someone you loved and somehow he knew that the fact that Matt was a criminal didn't make it any less painful.

"How... how do I tell... my parents? My... my sisters?" Danny looked at Chin with bloodshot eyes and tear tracks down his flushed face. "How do I look them in the eyes... and tell them I failed? I failed to protect my little brother..." The tears strained his voice, but he kept them from spilling past his lashes.

"I won't lie and say it'll be easy." Chin's voice was tight as he briefly thought back to the awful afternoon he had to tell Malia's family that she had died because of a vendetta against him. "But it's better than it coming from an HPD officer they don't know. And they know you did everything you could." His voice hitched. "I know itdoesn't seem like it, but you did and this isn't your fault." The silence fell around them again and this time it wasn't interrupted.

\- - -

Danny hadn't expected Rachel to be cordial, let alone pull him in for a tight hug after just showing up on her door step unannounced. He realized Steve must have called her after Danny had taken off.

"I'm so sorry Danny."

His chest was tight as he forced a sad smile on his face. He had no idea what to say. It's not your fault? Thanks? Why the hell was she even sorry in the first place?

Instead of voicing his anger, he let her pull him into another hug before leading him to the patio furniture.

It was 2:48 in the afternoon on a Thursday, which meant Grace wouldn't even be out of school for another twelve minutes. It would be at least twenty more after that before the driver brought her home. Part of Danny wanted to rage at Rachel for sending the driver to pick their daughter up from school; how she took the time she had with Grace for granted; how she should just let Danny pick her up if that were the case because he was clearly more willing to be a parent than she.

But all of his anger - both rational and irrational - was swallowed up and mixed in with all of the other anger burning inside of him.

Anger towards Reyes. Anger towards the FBI. Anger towards Matt.

Anger towards himself.

He could feel the pressure in his head build as hot tears threatened to fall and it took every ounce of self-control he had to will them away.

"Talk to me, Danny."

Rachel's voice was like a knife and it made his heart ache. It was just another reminder of how he had failed.

"You don't have to come to the funeral. I'd like for Grace to be there, but please don't feel obligated." Danny didn't want her pity.

"I'm going to the funeral, Danny. I cared about Matt and I want to be there." His words had caught her off guard, but she couldn't say she was surprised. Their relationship had become more strained than ever after Rachel had tried to take Grace to Las Vegas. Still, she felt some guilt at the fact that she couldn't comfort the man she had once been married to. "Grace and I will both be there. I'll look after her when you need me to; otherwise she can be with you every moment."

Rachel's words seemed to have a calming effect on him as his shoulders slumped slightly. Danny pinched the bridge of his nose to try to alleviate some of the pressure on his head, but it just made his nose hurt. "Thanks."

Danny rubbed his hands together anxiously as he sat with his elbows on his knees. Every time he heard a car, his head shot up to see if it was the town car carrying Grace.

Thirty-two minutes felt more like three hours, but the car finally pulled up the driveway. Danny's stomach clenched tightly and the anxiety flared in his chest for a brief moment - until he heard her voice.

"Danno!"

Grace darted out of the car, barely waiting for it to stop, and launched herself into her father's arms. With his daughter in a tight embrace, some of Danny's pain melted away and he almost relaxed enough to allow more tears slip past his defenses.

"Danno, what's wrong?" The slight tremor in Danny's body was still there and Grace had undoubtedly felt it. She pulled back from her father and looked at him intently. The red rims around his eyes; the faded tear streaks on his face; the sadness in his smile. Something was seriously wrong. "Did something happen to Uncle Steve!?"

A single tear slipped down his cheek as he shook his head. "No. No, Uncle Steve is fine." Danny cupped Grace's face gently with his right hand. "It's Uncle Matty. He…" His voice hitched and Grace's face crumpled as tears flooded her eyes.

"I don't understand…" Grace's voice was strained between sobs as she cried into her father's chest. Her lithe body shook as she sobbed, fisting her hands into Danny's already worn and stretched shirt. "What happened!?" It was a simple question with such a complicated answer, but as Grace looked at him with large, tear-filled eyes, Danny knew he had to be honest with her.

Danny picked Grace up and carried her to the porch where Rachel was softly crying; partly for Matt, partly for the pain Danny and Grace were feeling. Grace leaned her back against Danny's chest as they sat together on the wicker bench. "Your uncle got mixed up with some bad people and they ended up… hurting him." He fought through his own emotions to keep his voice even. Danny's eyes focused on the three in the middle of the yard as he stroked Grace's hair soothingly.

His mind took him back to days of when he was seven and Matty was five and they would climb as high as they could in the large oak tree in their parents' backyard – until Matty accidentally got into the poison oak and had to basically live in a bubble for the next week.

"Are you gunna get them?"

Ice rushed through Danny's veins as he was pulled back from his thoughts. He hesitated, his hand stilling in Grace's hair. He had been hoping she wouldn't ask him that. "Danno? Are you gunna get the guys who hurt Uncle Matt?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. What was he supposed to say? No. I already killed them in cold blood.

"Yeah, baby. I'm gunna get them."


	2. 5.05

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts at the beginning of 5.05, basically, and ends at the beginning of 5.06 where we finally see Steve and Danny together. I did my best to keep everything so that it can still fit right into canon without interrupting any of the subsequent episodes.
> 
> Thank you for your response to the first chapter. It really means a lot. Please continue to leave your comments and kudos! I thrive off of them, honestly. I've already started my 5.07 coda which should be plenty emotional for our boys.
> 
> Thanks to ialwayslikedthetie for looking over my chapters to make sure they're coherent and sound in character.
> 
> I own nothing.

It had been a little over a week since Danny had gone to Colombia to try and save his brother. A little over a week since his greatest failure – this far in his life, anyway – had been realized. It had been a hellish week of people tiptoeing around him; treating him like he was made of plate glass that would shatter under the slightest bit of strain. Even Steve's softness had become taxing on him. It got to the point that Danny had been _hoping_ they would get shot at so that he had an excuse to just rant at the Navy SEAL and get Steve to take the kid gloves off.

If not, Danny was just going to deck him. That usually got Steve going.

But, nothing ever happened. They spent most of the week in the office completing paper work and doing brief consultations on different cases the HPD need small assists with; nothing to break the monotony or the passing glances or the quiet whispers every time Danny walked through the Palace.

Still, somehow Danny made it through the week and to Matt's funeral without completely losing it. The sadness in his mother's eyes when she picked him up from the airport had nearly killed him, but Grace's warm hand in his kept him going; kept him grounded. He was scared to think what would happen when she and Rachel went back to Hawaii before him. This time, when he was alone and he was suffering, there was really no chance for Matt to show up on his doorstep with a six-pack and a pizza.

He remained eerily still and quiet as he drove his mother, Rachel, and Grace to his parent's house. Normally, driving through the traffic on the turnpike would have him waving his arms animatedly and yelling colorful words, but he just kept his eyes straight forward and his face blank. If he allowed himself to feel anything, everything would come rushing at once.

The evening before the funeral was one that Danny would likely not even remember. He filled a tumbler with whiskey and one turned into five before he passed out on his parents' couch. Thankfully, Rachel had taken Grace back to the hotel after his first one as it was late and their little girl needed to get some rest, so neither of them had to witness his descent into drunkenness.

Unfortunately, the whiskey did nothing to chase the nightmares away and he woke up with a jolt and a layer of sweat covering his body. His eyes were open, but he could still see the hand reaching up for him; could still smell the smolder of the recently fired gun; see the oozing hole in Reyes' head.

Danny was going to be sick.

He made it to the toilet just in time to dry heave – technically his streak was still unbroken, then, right? Stripping his clothes from his body, Danny sat down in the shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go. The first few seconds of the shower, when it was so icy it felt like knives, stole his breath for a moment before the heat consumed him.

In the shower, he couldn't tell the difference between his soft tears and the hot water, so he was able to fool himself into thinking he was strong enough. That he was fine. He sat there for an hour, telling himself he was fine, before he finally forced himself to get out of the shower. Danny's hair was a mess and his skin was red from the hot water, but he felt more sober now.

He wasn't really sure that was a good thing, though.

The smell of coffee greeted him as he stepped out of the bathroom. It was only four in the morning and the funeral wouldn't start until ten-thirty. Dressed in a thin pair of linen sleep pants, Danny shuffled sleepily into the kitchen to find his father leaning against the counter. "What're you doin' up, pop?" His voice was tired as he rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes, cringing at the smell of alcohol on his own breath. "It's early."

"Couldn't sleep. Looks like you couldn't either." Eddie's voice was low as he slid a mug over to his son. "Nightmares?"

Danny looked up at his dad, surprised. "How did you-"

"Son, I've been able to tell when you've had a nightmare since you were two years old. And ever since… Billy… you've had a tendency to yell at people in your nightmares and wave your hands around til you rolled outta your bed. Or do you not remember the five stitches you had to get in your head when you were thirteen?" He chuckled. "Matt ran into our room, frantic because you were bleeding and muttering something about being pulled under. Scared me and your ma half to death."

Danny sighed with a small smile on his face. Matt had been there for so much of the tragedy in his life. He really didn't know how the hell he was going to make it through this. "We always had each other's back, me and Matty."

\- - -

The moments that Danny wanted to fly by seemed to go on and on while the ones he wanted to last he just couldn't hold onto. Now was a moment he wanted to just get over with, but he couldn't seem to make time move any faster no matter how much he willed it.

Danny cleared his throat as his hands trembled enough to rustle the piece of notebook paper he held tightly as he stood behind the oak lectern resting gently in the grass near the casket. Matt's casket. He had refused to give the eulogy for his brother, instead wanting to just say a few words about him. It felt weird because neither of his sisters wanted to get up there, nor his parents – and not out of some kind of disrespect for Matt, but because they didn't trust the words to actually come when they needed to.

He cleared his throat again before reading what he had written. He shocked himself by how quiet his own voice was. It was just so unlike him. But he pressed on, anyway.

"As most of you know, I'm Matt's older brother, Danny. I made the mistake of calling myself his big brother once before he quickly reminded me that he was half a foot taller than me, so I just go with older brother." There was soft laughter from the people in front of him, but he couldn't bring himself to force more than a small half-smile. "Matt and I grew up more like twins than older and younger brother. We did everything together – mostly getting ourselves into trouble with our parents. And we always had each other's backs." His voice cracked on those words – because now they felt like a lie. Danny hadn't had Matt's back and now Matt was dead.

"We all know that Matt didn't make the best choices in his adult life, but he was still my brother. He was a wonderful uncle to my daughter and an even better brother and I would not trade a single minute of his life for anything. Except for maybe more time." Danny turned towards the casket, close enough to reach out and touch it. "I miss you, bro. And I love you dearly." Tears brimmed in his eyes as he folded the piece of paper up and shoved it into his jacket pocket before taking his seat next to his sisters again. The lump in his throat grew and it took everything he had not to start crying again.

His mind returned to four years ago; to the last happy memory he had with his brother. Dinner with Matt, Grace, Rachel, and Steve in Hawaii. They had all sat around, laughing and jovial as Matt and Danny recounted their escapades in their younger years.

_"You were nine, Danny!"_

_"Yeah, but I would_ always _come back for ya. Huh? Didn_ _'_ _t I?"_

_"Yeah, you did, brother."_

The tears finally spilled past his eyes as his head hung low. _I came back, Matt. I did. I was just too late…_

Danny was pulled from his thoughts as everyone around him stood. He realized that the service was now over and they would all be ushered into the small gazebo not too far away for refreshments and condolences so that Matt's casket could be lowered into the ground to its final resting place.

The funeral hadn't given him any closure; it had just made him angrier. Angry because they had to have a closed casket service thanks to what Reyes had done to Matt. Angry because many of their family members had neglected to even show up due to Matt's criminal activity. Angry because even the weather didn't have the decency to mourn his brother's loss. Instead of being overcast and rainy to match the somber mood, it was sunny and beautiful outside.

Un-fucking-believable.

He was so fixated on the casket in front of him that he barely noticed the people around him filter away. The caretakers wouldn't lower the casket until everyone was gone and Danny couldn't help but wonder that maybe if he just stood there forever he would never have to say goodbye.

Behind him, he could hear Rachel quietly pull Grace away so he could have a moment alone. He'd have to thank her for that later.

Danny, now alone, moved on shaky legs towards the casket. His hand trembled as it laid on the smooth wood that separated him from his brother; it did nothing, however, to block out the memories of the state of his brother inside. He was just glad no one else had those images in his head. Without warning, the anxiety and grief and despair that had been threatening to rear its ugly head all morning finally seized him and Danny found himself unable to stand.

Danny's knees sank into the soft ground as the sobs racked his body and he clutched desperately at his chest as he fought to suck in air, certain he was going to hyperventilate. He couldn't bring himself to walk away because, as soon as he did, Matt would go into the cold, hard ground and he would be gone forever. Danny would never be this close to his brother again and he just… he couldn't fathom that.

"I'm not… I'm not ready to say goodbye to you yet, Matty." And suddenly he was twelve years old again; a crying, unintelligible mess as Billy's funeral came to an end and he had to say his final goodbyes. Both times – then and now – he had made it through the entire service without losing it, only to crumble when it came time to stand. Danny leaned his head against the casket as he forced the quiet words out between short breaths and hard sobs. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. If… if I had just stopped you that night. If I had looked harder. If I had done _something… anything…_ you'd still be here. Still be alive."

Danny pressed his forefinger and thumb into his eyes as he made a fist with his right hand against the casket. "I failed you, Matt, and I will _never_ forgive myself for that. I love you so much, man, and I just… I hope you know that- knew that." The last few words came out on a whisper as the tears overcame him again.

The air was too thick and his tie was too tight and his suit was too restricting and his skin was _crawling_ but all he could do was kneel there and suffer.

But then there was that had again; this one smaller and gentler than the other two.

"Daniel."

He didn't move.

"Daniel, honey, we need to go." Clara's voice was strained with tears.

"I can't… I can't leave him, ma…"

"I know, sweetie. And you're not. We know right where he is and he'll be here whenever you want to talk with him. But, right now, your daughter needs you and I need you, so let's go back to the house, have a few drinks, and be sad together. Don't be sad alone." She squeezed his shoulder gently as he relaxed and pulled him to his feet.

Thirty-eight years old and he still needed his mother to dry his tears. Ridiculous.

\- - -

Danny sat in his parents' backyard in a fold-out chair, staring at the tree line at the edge of the yard with a beer in his hand. Grace was curled up, asleep, in the chair next to him with a blanket draped over her. They had been out there for nearly five hours and the emotional strain of the day had worn her out about two hours ago.

Sitting out there felt similar to being out on Steve's lanai with a couple of Longboards after a particularly tough case. Except this time he wouldn't be able to just sleep it off. This time, he'd wake up the next morning and the pain would still be there.

"Danny." Rachel's voice was soft as she approached him. "Do you want Grace to stay here tonight and you can bring her to me in the morning before our flight?" His eyes drifted over to his sleeping daughter as he shook his head. "I doubt I'll be sleeping much tonight. It'd be best if she went with you." Danny was surprised at his own honesty, but was thankful Rachel didn't push it.

She squeezed his shoulder gently before waking their daughter so she could say goodbye. "I love you, monkey. You know that, right?" Danny's eyes were still red from the tears he had cried off and on all evening and sadness lined his forehead. "I know, Danno. And I love you and I'm here for you. No matter what." Grace pulled her father into a tight hug – the tightest she could possibly muster – and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek as she tried to fill him with as much of her love as possible.

Danny melted into her hug and a shuddered with a small sob as he pressed a kiss into her hair. "Thank you, Gracie." He pulled back from her, pressed another kiss to her forehead, and wrapped her blanket tightly around her shoulders before giving Rachel a tight hug and saying goodbye to both of them.

A new feeling of emptiness burned through Danny as he sank further in his chair. Five minutes passed before new footsteps could be heard behind him. With a heavy sigh, Eddie sat in the chair previously occupied by Grace. They remained in silence for about ten more minutes before Eddie's hollow voice broke it.

"Where did I go wrong? You were both good kids – knuckleheads, but good – and you turned out fine. Where did I go wrong with Matt?"

Danny had to force himself not to chuckle. He was far from what he would call fine. A divorced cop stuck living in Hawaii so he could see his daughter two days a week. Yeah, he was just super. "It's not about you or mom. Matt made his decisions and he was a grown man. You both did your job." Danny's tone was somber, but his words were genuine. "The only one who went wrong was me I should have stopped him."

His father didn't disagree with him and, while it wasn't the same as agreeing, it was still crushing.

It still hurt.

\- - -

Danny only made it to about one in the afternoon the next day before he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He just couldn't take it anymore. The sadness and the grief; the quiet sniffles surrounding him as his sisters mourned with their mother; his father's distance and blank stares. He knew they blamed him. They'd never admit it, but he knew. Danny was the cop. It was his job to keep their family safe and he had failed with Matt. He knew they wondered why he hadn't bothered to fly around the world to track his little brother down and drag him off to jail where he'd be safer.

For the past four years he had told himself it wasn't his jurisdiction; that he needed to let the FBI do their own work and that everyone would be better off if he just didn't get involved. But the truth was that he couldn't bring himself to have another tête-à-tête with Matt. He knew it would just come down to him pointing a gun at his brother and reading him his Miranda Rights and Danny... He just couldn't do it. But now his selfishness - his weakness - had cost his family dearly and they would never be able to forgive him.

So he changed his flight and left New Jersey five days earlier than planned. He didn't tell anyone - not Steve, not Rachel, not even Grace. He just needed to be alone so he could get through the grief and the anxiety on his own.

He could do it if he was just alone.

And he was alone.

He was alone in the Honolulu International Airport when he landed. He was alone in the cab ride back to his house. He was alone in the liquor store when he grabbed the bottles of whiskey and scotch. He was alone the first night when he finished off his first bottle of Jack and passed out in his recliner with the TV playing old hockey highlights. And he was alone when he woke up the next morning and the grief hit him like a freight train and his only saving grace was the next bottle.

Danny spent the first two days home in a drunken stupor and never even bothered to leave his home. Pizza or bad Chinese food was delivered and he drunkenly over-tipped the delivery guys each time. Trash was strewn across the living room; whiskey bottles and pizza boxes and take out boxes. If he had been sober enough to care, he'd notice how disheveled he looked and how much he needed to shower.

But he just didn't care. Because he was alone. And it was all his fault.

By the third day, Danny ran out of liquor and he couldn't bring himself to drink the beer in his fridge because it just made him think of those first six months after his divorce when Matt would come by every night with a six pack to split between the two of them. And it just made him ache.

So he waited until he sobered up enough to walk a straight line and climbed into his Camaro and headed back to the liquor store on Kalakaua Avenue so that he could load up this time and not have to leave his house again.

His face was gaunt and his eyes were still bloodshot, but no one dared say no to him. And it wasn't because of the gun on his hip - he had been smart enough to leave that and his badge at home - but because of the haunted gaze in his eyes.

No one wanted to intervene.

Except for one courteous shopper who watched Danny stumble around the store dazedly.

"'Ey, McGarrett. I thought Jersey wasn't supposed to be back on the mainland for two more days, brah."

"He's not. What's going on, Kamekona?"

"Well, da Haole is in the liquor store on Kalakaua right now and he doesn't look good, bruddah. I tink he needs some help."

Steve sounded confused. "What do you mean? He's hurt?"

"Nah, brah. I tink he's drunk. Or at least just buzzed."

The line got quiet for a minute. "Ok, thank you, Kamekona. Can you do me a favor? Can you follow him? I'm going to trace your cell and I'll take care of it. I just need you to stay on him for me."

"Shoots, brah. He's Ohana. I'll make sure he don't get himself in too much trouble." Kamekona hung up the phone with a small smile on his face and went back to his shopping. Every minute Danny went without noticing the large man told him just how bad off the detective must have been.

\- - -

Kamekona sat in his jeep half a block down the road from Danny's house. He had watched the detective stumble out of the Camaro and carry in two bags of what he knew to be whiskey and scotch into the house and now all he could do was wait for McGarrett. He looked down at his phone briefly. It was 1:43pm. McGarrett would be there within five minutes, likely driving like a bat out of hell to get to his struggling partner.

A noise next to him drew Kamekona's attention to his driver side door where Danny was now standing next to him. His breath smelled of alcohol and his blond hair was shiny with grease. The man was a mess.

"The hell you doin', Kame?" Danny's words were slightly slurred, but his anger wasn't impaired. If anything, the alcohol seemed to amplify it. The small detective had his hands clenched into fists, but Kamekona could see that the holster on his hip was empty - thank God.

"Just out for a drive, bruddah. Howzit?" He played it off calmly as his eyes darted to the rear-view mirror, hoping McGarrett would be there soon.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "You called him, did'n you?" His voice was a growl as he gripped the door of the Jeep tightly. He did not want Steve involved in this. Danny was handling it just fine. "Well you can tell Commander McGarrett to min' his own damn business. I'm fine." He waved his hands around to try to emphasize his point, but all it did was emphasize his intoxication.

"Look, bruh, we're just worried 'bout you. Das all. You weren't s'posed to come back for anothah two days."

"Well, my plans changed. I came home. Wanted time alone. Still do." Danny could hear the roar of the Silverado's engine as it turned down his street. "So, jus' go finish your drive, Kamekona." He stalked back into his house and slammed the door behind him just as Steve pulled up behind Kamekona's Jeep.

Steve heard Danny's front door slam shut as he stepped out of his Silverado and sighed deeply. Apparently, Kamekona had been made. "He's wasted, brah. And pissed. Be careful." Kamekona folded his hand into a hang loose gesture before driving away, knowing full and well that he didn't want to be in the same zip code as Danny and McGarrett when they inevitably exploded on each other.

"Damnit, Danny..." McGarrett approached the small house and knocked on the door once, trying to be as courteous as possible. "Come on, man. Open the door."

"'M fine, Steven. Leave me be." The words were clipped and slurred and only made Steve angrier.

"Open the damn door before I break it down, _Daniel_." He used the most commanding voice he dared to ever use with the stubborn detective and waited as he heard shuffling inside before the door was unlocked, but not opened. Steve took it as his invitation in, knowing it was as close to one as he'd get.

He didn't even fully make it through the door before stopping dead in his tracks at the discombobulated state of Danny's apartment. There was a tower of pizza boxes near the TV topped off by an assortment of Chinese take-out boxes. Various types of liquor bottles sat around his apartment; the empty ones discarded and upturned carelessly. The whole place smelled like despair and Steve felt his stomach clench with unease.

It was worse than he had thought.

Swaddled in a mess of blankets, Danny nursed a bottle of scotch like it was one of the Longboards he and Steve liked to share after work. Steve just stood and stared at his partner with his hands fisted into his hips disapprovingly. "What the hell, Danny?"

"Oh, _now_ you take the kid gloves off…" Danny's voice slurred on several of the words as he rolled his head back to look up at Steve with contempt in his eyes. "What?" "It's just nice ta see you're not treat'n me like porcelain nomore." He stumbled over his words as he tilted the bottle against his lips only to have it snatched away by Steve. "'EY! WHAT GIVES?" Danny swung his arms open and tried to lunge from the bottle only to fall back drunkenly.

"What the hell are you doing, Danny? Are you trying to ruin your career? What are you thinking, driving after drinking half a liquor store? Do you _want_ Rachel to have enough ammo to take Grace away?" Steve had set the whiskey bottle down behind him, waving his own hands in disbelief. He just couldn't believe this. "Look, man, I know you're hurting over Matt, but you can't do… _this._ " Steve spread his hands out, gesturing around him.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry we don't all process our pain like Mr. Super SEAL. I know you could just move on after your dad was killed without a single misstep, but I can't do that." The grief clenched around his heart and he felt the tears filling his eyes. "I can't… I can't do this, Steve. At least when I'm passed out, all I see is Matt's hand; my mind doesn't wander." Danny's eyes locked with Steve's and he allowed him to see the pain and the anguish he was feeling.

If he had been sober, he never would have admitted to the images haunting him or his inability to deal with his grief to Steve and not because he was shy about his feelings - everyone knew Danny had no problem telling people exactly how he was feeling. He didn't want Steve to look at him like Danny was a wounded animal. The alcohol numbed everything to a dull roar and made it doable. He just needed a few more days... Why didn't Steve understand that?

Steve didn't know what to say; part of him wanted to deck Danny for his comments about his dad, but the logical part of him knew that his friend was hurting. "Danny… you can't just sit-" "I'm fine, Steven. Just, _please_ , leave me alone. Please."

Steve paused and sighed heavily. He didn't want to leave but he knew that he wouldn't get anywhere if he kept pushing Danny like this. "Fine. But I'm taking all of this-" He gestured towards the alcohol and the garbage, "-with me. And if I hear about you driving drunk or buzzed or _anything_ of that variety, I will throw you in the drunk tank myself and take the Camaro with me. Clear?"

Danny narrowed his eyes at Steve as he felt the anxiety claw him up inside. "Fine."

He watched and waited for Steve to clean up and leave, not even bothering to lock the door behind the taller man. Danny wanted to just be left alone for the next two days before he would have to face Rachel and Gracie again.

And now he was going to have to make it through sober. Thanks, Steve.

\- - -

The next two days were hell, but Danny did it without a drink. By the end of the fourth day he had forced himself to shower. When he had gotten out, he found a bag of malasadas on his kitchen table with his name written on it in what could only have been Kono's handwriting. He wasn't crazy about her just barging into his house, but he supposed it was better than Steve and he was thankful for the treats. When he picked up the bag, he saw a homemade card that Grace had apparently made and had everyone at Five-0 sign. Even Duke Lukela had written a small note in it.

Unbidden tears sprang to his eyes as he had to swallow his emotions. He was being so selfish just wallowing in his own self-pity when his daughter was hurting and needed to know how loved she was.

Taking a bite of one of the malasadas, Danny snatched the bag and headed out to his car. A quick text to Rachel got him permission to pick Grace up from school and the light in his daughter's eyes and the small squeal of Danno she allowed herself did wonders to lift his heart. She slid into the passenger seat of the Camaro before leaning over and pulling his neck into a tight.

"I missed you, dad." "Dad, huh? What? We're too cool for Danno now?" He allowed himself a wistful smile. "I just thought I'd try it out a little more often. But don't worry; I'll be married with kids and still calling you Danno." "You tryin' to give me a panic attack? Talking about getting married. Not for... at least twenty-five more years." He received an eye-roll from his daughter as he pulled away from her school. This was the lightest he had felt since Reyes had first showed up on the island and Danny was just so thankful for his daughter.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to the same cliff Danny had claimed as his special spot. He and Grace sat on the ridge - Danny's arm hovering near Grace's back just to make sure she wouldn't accidentally topple over the edge - as they stared past the shoreline. They sat there without saying a word until the sun started to dip below the horizon and Danny realized he needed to get his daughter home.

\- - -

Day five; or as Danny was now choosing to look at it, Day One. It was Saturday and Danny was choosing to start the day fresh rather than allow himself to relapse into his pit of despair. He'd bought plane tickets for himself and Grace to spend the weekend in Maui at one of the smaller hotels and planned a day at the Kula Botanical Gardens. Fresh air and a new venue would do him wonders.

He and Grace enjoyed their time immensely and Danny was sad to see it go. After they landed back on Oahu, Danny dropped his daughter off at school - she got to sign in late as it was Monday, but they wouldn't tell Rachel that - and headed towards his house where he and Steve were supposed to meet and carpool.

Only, he wasn't quite ready. Anxiety gnawed at his insides and he found himself at his spot instead of his house. He sat there for a few hours, legs draped over the side as he faced the water before he heard the rumble of the all-too-familiar Silverado. Danny didn't flinch as the door to the truck shut heavily and he didn't budge as that hand - the one that had anchored him in Colombia - rested on his shoulder for a brief moment.

"Hey." Steve sat on the ledge next to Danny.

"Hey."


End file.
